Make It That Easy
by Nights Sleepless
Summary: Spoilers for TMFTOS. Because she had just admitted to him what they've both been wanting to feel. But he left anyway.


Alrighty-tighty people. So. It's been a while. I'm a little rusty, and I hope it all works out okay. I've been mindlessly writing little drabbles and such to keep my mind flowing, and this is the first time I really felt confident enough to put something up here.

It's set at the end of The Man From The Other Side, so spoilers.

**BY THE WAY! I've got my eyes shut and my ears plugged past this episode! **I've made a promise not to watch any episodes without someone, and they NEVER seem to find time. But, promise is a promise. **PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE ME SPOILERS IN THE COMMENTS.** I've had to squint for three months every time I watched Bones and fast forward through the commercials. They're tricky though! They leave them RIGHT before the commercial ends, so when I hit play my TiVo does that little thirty-second-jump-back-thing and that's all it takes! I'm determined though. And summer is gettin' here, so I will hopefully get to watch all these before the end of the month.

Anyho, this is just a little piece I did up. Enjoy :) and DO comment, because it does wonderful pleasurable things to my self-confidence.

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_She ventured into the hospital room, to look at the man laying in the bed. The blanket rested on his stomach, his head tilted back on the pillow, eyes closed against the haunting lights. His jaw throbbed methodically, and she could imagine his teeth grinding, a habit she had seen him do a few times. Her eyes traveled down to his clenched fists, knuckles white as he squeezed the very life out of the pale blue blanket, and couldn't help if he was picturing somebodies defenseless neck._

_There was no need to announce her presence, she was sure he was aware of her the moment she stepped into the room. But still, she felt like something needed to be said. The bound holding in the tension needed to be provoked._

_"Peter?" she asked, delicately. His chest rose swiftly with a long breath, and he held it for a long three seconds. She counted._

_With a silent breeze, he released it and his shoulders relaxed. "You knew," he accused, without the accusing tone._

_She didn't confirm it vocally. Her silence was enough of an omission, and she took a few more steps towards him. Her fingertips reached out to touch the edge of the bed, her eyes training on the motion. The fabric was textured, it's thick threads grazing. She used her index finger to flatten a loose thread, before glancing up at him. He had pulled his head up and was staring at her, with those expressionless eyes. The same eyes he had looked at her with when he had first woken up. Startling, fooling eyes._

_Leaning against the bed, she gave him a sad half-smile. "I wanted to tell you, but he said he should be the one," she weakly defended herself. In truth, she knew she dreaded this. Walter telling him. She had pushed him, and prodded, and said how right it was. But she never wanted Peter to actually find out. Because now everything would change. There might not be a recovery, their relationship would forever be haunted by this looming fact. He forever now would be the boy who shouldn't be._

_"I understand," he said, but she didn't believe him._

_She was selfish, and they both knew it. That's why she didn't tell them._

_"Peter..." The name was whispered, but she could scream it and it wouldn't matter._

_"I'm just..." He released a breath, and shook his head. "I need to think."_

_"Peter," she repeated, more firmer this time._

_He stared at her, expectantly. But what she wanted to say just got stuck at her throat and wouldn't budge. She returned his stare, desperately searching for something to convey what she was thinking. That he lied to her with those smiles and coolness when he woke up. That he hated her right now, and all he wanted her to do was leave. That she could see all of this just by looking at him, but she couldn't leave. Because she was a liar too._

_"I'm sorry," she apologized. "That this all happened... to you." But she wasn't, really. Because if Walter hadn't brought him from the other dimension, then she would have never met him. Then he would be dead, and everything that has ever happened to him... wouldn't. And she just can't picture going back on all of that now._

_He looked up at the ceiling, before back at her. But he made no move to say anything._

_"But if he hadn't..." she threatened. Suddenly her mind was catching up with her thoughts. Or slowing down because of them. "You wouldn't be here."_

_"In a hospital bed, pumped with pain killers?" he joked, dryly._

_"No," she answered, firmly. "You wouldn't be anywhere. You'd be dead." He wouldn't be with her._

_She could see it in his eyes as he stared at her. Would that be better._

_"We would have never known each other," she reminded him. "Ever. So don't look at me like you wish Walter hadn't done anything." Because if there was still a Peter on the other side, and the one here were to suddenly die... It wouldn't matter that she'd be causing catastrophic chaos and destruction, worse than Hitler and Godzilla, she'd go there. She'd bring him back to her._

_He looked down, at his fists. They were still clenched. His silence was not one of omission. He was done with the conversation, and he didn't want anything to do with her tonight anymore. But she was a godforsaken FBI agent, and she couldn't leave something half-way done. Stepping closer, she let her finger tips graze the knuckles of his right hand. Peter stared at his fist, but didn't look up at her._

_And then it happened. He glimmered. It only lasted for a moment, but she saw it. Drawing in a deep breath, her hand slid onto his. Firmly, wanting his image to stay in one place. She was scared, and she knew of what._

_"I have to deal with this on my own," he told her, pulling his hand away._

_She closed her eyes, tightly. "Okay," she admitted. When she opened them, he was looking up at her again. And the acknowledgment gave her a new found courage. She took another step closer to her, bringing her hand up. A tear flowed down her cheek, and his eyes shifted, seeming to realize all of the emotional turmoil he was putting her through right now._

_"Olivia," he breathed._

_His eyes looked reluctant for a moment. He may be pissed beyond pissed, but he still cared. He hadn't flipped a switch in his genius brain, erasing her from him._

_But she only brought her hand up, lightly grazing the stubble on his cheeks. It made her fingers feel like they were on fire, but she's been wanting to do that forever. She leaned her face down til she could feel his breath on her lips, and it sent a shiver down her spine. "Just don't forget," she begged. Don't forget her in the equation when he's re-evaluating his life. And then she did what she has been subconsciously dieing to do since Jacksonville, and probably long before then._

_She lightly pressed her lips to his. She more felt him, than heard him, draw in a long breath, tilting his own head up instinctively. It only lasted a moment, before he could react any farther. Because if they ever do _really_ kiss, it wasn't going to be in a hospital room, while he tells her he's leaving with his eyes, and she's crying._

_Quickly, she backed up, running her hand over her cheek to wipe the evidence. He only stared after her as she turned around, and deep down it hurt that he didn't call her back. She knew he wouldn't, but she still wished that he would. Because she had just let him look at her without her changing the subject, or shielding herself. She had just put everything on the line, and they had both thought that would have been him. But he did nothing. God strike him down if he thinks about deserting her now. She just admitted to him what they've both been wanting to feel._

"He's gone," she says as the tears begin to well in the father's eyes.

_But he left anyway._

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Anyone ever notice how the narrator-whatever-he's-called, _right before_ a new episode says, "And now, a brand new episode of F_w_inge!"


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